


Part of His World

by inheritanceofgeek



Category: Little Mermaid (1989), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Disney, Gratuitous Fish Puns, Merlock, Multi, mermen!sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek/pseuds/inheritanceofgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merman Sherlock is tired of ocean life, so when a handsome former navy doctor drops out of the blue, things might just start to get a bit more interesting, especially after the deal he makes with a certain Sea Witch. It seems like his loyal Bay Lady Mrs Hutchen and unrealised Father Figgure DI Greg Lobstrade are going to have their hands... fins.... claws... full! </p><p>Inspired partly by the Lobster Quadrille  http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/4076.html?thread=11713516 but mainly by this rather lovely piece of fanart by darlingbenny http://darlingbenny.tumblr.com/post/40778467823 </p><p>EDIT</p><p> Pretty Much Abandoned at this point due to a variety of reasons, but never say never I guess? But no plans to pick this back up after so long....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [♫ My oh my look like the boy too shy~](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/16447) by darlingbenny. 



The Ocean was dull. Incredibly dull. It was just a big expanse of dark blue, endless and on going; the expanse broken up only by the greys and browns of mindless fish. Sherlock had heard that in some parts of the world, the fish were orange and turquoise, but wasn’t that just more blue? And anyway, the concept of swimming all that way bored Sherlock yet more. Even his fellow merfolk were dull. They were all so concerned with their silly little lives. Who was mating with whom; the rise in Krill prices; what their predictions for the next finball match were. It was just all so tedious. 

Then, when he was 14, Karl Powers was murdered. Sherlock heard his brother, Mycroft – who had recently entered into the court of Triton – talking about the case. Sherlock wasn’t meant to be listening but despite being the most irritating merman in existence, he was also the most interesting, equally, if Mycroft didn’t want Sherlock to over hear what he was saying, then he wouldn’t be. What he heard was strange, it seemed that Karl had drowned. Dolphins and whales drowning wasn’t unheard of, but Merfolk? It was possible, of course, you just had to apply pressure to their gills, folding them flat against their body; but Karl had been a strapping 17 year old with a bright future in sprinting ahead of him, surely he could have fended of an attack easily enough. He needed to examine the body. 

The DI on duty, though, wouldn’t listen to him. Oh he entertained him for his father’s sake. Ordered Trainee Detective Constable Donofin to show him around the ship wreck which made up Scotland Loch. It was all relatively interesting, with plenty of data for Sherlock to log for future use, the lab in particular. Donofin had got Anglerson (the two were clearly at it like catfish- how disgusting) to show him how they tested for blood trace in the water, how they could tell the difference from a nurse shark bite to that of a hammer head. However, he couldn’t understand why they hadn’t shown him the body yet. Obviously he would be of more use to them than that stupid old Cuttlefish they were using for autopsies now days. He’d asked Donofin twelve times now, and Sherlock hated to repeat himself, be he tried again: “Constable Donofin, you can show me the body now. Unless you want my help in explaining why your boyfriend here is planning to break up with you tonight as well, however, I think my time might be better appreciated if I were to examine the body.” That was the last straw for Donofin. 

“Look,” she yelled as Anglerson slowly drifted out of the room without her noticing “just because you’re a Holmes don’t think I can’t throw you in jail. It’s not healthy for a boy your age to be so obsessed with murder. It’s not normal. Why don’t you just go off and join a choir or something and leave the detective work to the professionals.” Professionals! Thought Sherlock, don’t make me laugh. “But don’t you see, if he was murdered, as I suspect is the case – and my suspicions are always right – then there’s got to be evidence on the lower”  
“There is no evidence! It was a heart attack you little squirt.”  
“Donnafin?” came a voice from bellow, Sherlock looked to see a small Reddish Crab. A Detective Constable, obviously, but one that had only recently been promoted to such judging by the way he held himself, all confidence with a large shellful of Oh-Pie-What-Am-I-Even-Doing-Here? “I thought the D.I told you to be polite to Mr Holmes, after all, his Dad did just pay for our brand new ship-wreck to be renovated.”  
“Yes Greg but he’s being”  
“Then, if you can’t say anything nice, go and make cups of Krill for everyone.” Donnafin rolled her eyes, but as she was still only a trainee, Greg Lobstrade did outrank her oh so slightly; so did as she was told.  
“Detective Constable you have to listen to me”  
“I know son. I don’t think it was a heart attack either. But there are no signs of any damage on his body, so unless it was magic – which it can’t be because Triton would have traced it by now- then there is nothing else to go on” Sherlock was about to say something when “and even if you did find something then the DI isn’t going to listen to some kid, even if he is a Holmes.”  
“I’m not a kid I’m fourteen!” Greg gave him a well-that-proves-it look “And even if I am ‘a kid’ then what difference does it make? I’m still smarter than anyone else on this ship and if you’ll just let me look at the body I’ll be able to tell you if magic was used or not, I’ve done studies into it which clearly show that the trace can be avoided and”  
“Hey hey hey, I’m on your side Sherlock. I get it, you’re smart. Give it a few years and you can join the Loch yourself and solve all the homicides you like.” Sherlock huffed again “I am not going to waste my life filling out useless stone work when I could be doing something interesting with my time.” He’d meant it as an insult but Lobstrade chucked instead. “Ok Sherlock, if you promise to keep out of trouble, how about I send you some old closed files from the 50s to look over? Something that won’t get either of us in trouble, but might keep you out of it.” Lobstrade had seen this type of boy before, growing up on the reef. Smart kids getting into all sorts because of boredom. The smarter the kid the more bored they got. 

Sherlock considered the Constables proposal. It wasn’t usual to see a crab working in crime, let alone in homicide. But judging from the way he spoke, he clearly had more brains then the rest of the fish and merfolk in the building. This could mean that he was likely to move further up the ranks in the future, as a poster boy for Crustacean Equality. Having someone like that on the inside would likely help him out in the future. “Fine then. But you’ve got to promise ask for my help when you reach DI.”  
“When I reach DI?” the crab asked, perplexed  
“I have all confidence in you, Lobstrade, and your barely average mind being superior to those of your gawping colleagues.”  
“I’ll have to take that as a compliment I suppose. But I advice you go now before you say something that will make me forcibly remove you from the premises and then from myself” he snapped his pincers menacingly.  
“But what am I meant to do about”  
“Nothing, Sherlock. The case is closed. In the mean time, why not take Donofin’s advice and join a choir, keep your mind active for a while longer.” Thus, on that day, two unlikely alliances were formed. That of Sherlock Holmes and Greg Lobstrade and of Sherlock Holmes and Music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the ages and such doesn't follow canon very well, but as Sherlock is a Merman and Lestrade a crab with a Lobster name (a name I have taken in homage to the Quadrille) so I hope I can be forgiven.  
> According to google/Yahoo Answers Pie is a youthanism for fish poop!  
> Expect more high quality fish based puns and references in the future. 
> 
> My thanks go to giggle-at-a-crime-scene for encouraging me to post this!


	2. The Reichenbach Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are incredibly dull for The World's Only Consulting Marine Detective, so it seems only fitting that fate should throw a couple of things of a boat to entertain him with.

Mrs Huchen sighed. Sherlock was in one of his moods again, curled up in his clam with his back to her. Lobstrade hadn't had a case for him in all of two days and no one else had posted on his wall. He might have been 28, but he still acted like the 16 year old who'd left home and moved into her spare cave on Basker Street. "Now now Sherlock dear" she said, swimming over to him "look at the state of this place" there were fish heads scattered about all over the floor, stones with scribbled notes and- was that an actual mermen's tail nailed to the wall? "You really should do something about all this."

"I am perfectly happy with my living arrangements, it's only you, Mrs Huchen, who has this so called problem, therefore the only logical explanation is that you are the one who needs to ‘do something about it’."

"I'm your Bay Lady, Sherlock, not your Cave keeper." She replied, swimming back to her neighbouring cave. Sherlock swam to the port hole and stared out. It was so quiet, so peaceful, Poseidon it was hateful. That's when the explosion happened and the cannon hit the seabed.

Sherlock was pushed back by the force of it, he could hear Mrs Huchen calling for him in panic from next door- so she was all right. This was what he'd been waiting for, something different. Something from the surface world. He swam out to investigate.

*

The cannon had fallen off of the S.S Reichenbach when it had been hit in a surprise attack by pirates. Captain Watson had sprung into action straight away, barking orders at his crew "Raise the sail"

"Raise the sail!" Repeated his first officer, Murray

"Secure the rest of the cannons!"

"Secure the cannons!"

"Stop repeating me Murray."

"Stop repeating me Mur- sorry captain. Following procedure."

"Yeah well, we're under attack so drop the formalities and go help the crew, I'll take the helm."

"Yes Captain." This was their third attack in a month, if this kept happening then Lord Hooper's supply company would go bust- and with that, his own job! Who else would want to employ a former Navy Doctor with a busted shoulder? Their enemy was coming back around now, a boarding party prepared, armed to the teeth with a variety of imaginative weaponry (he was pretty sure that was a human femur in that ginger-bearded man's teeth). Laying all caution to the wind he threw all his weight on the wheel, sharply turning the ship into theirs. The collision shook both vessels immensely, Watson ran to aid his men as they fell about the deck. He was just helping the cabin boy to his feet when there was another knock as the pirates attempted to get nearer for boarding and he was thrown overboard.

*

Sherlock examined the cannon with great interest. Judging by the chips in the metal it had to be at least 10 years old, but the lack of burns and scrapes on the inside told him that it hadn't seen much use. So. Had fallen from a cargo ship. This then told him that the ship was likely to carry something of value... What did humans value? He didn't know much about them at all. He looked at the cannon once more and saw everything, the shapes of the tools used to create it, the markings on its base, the shade of black... But he had no idea what any of this meant. It frustrated him no end. All this data and yet he still couldn't understand what any of it meant in the real world. In their world. As was his way, he dramatically slumped on top of the cannon. A faint "sploosh" came from above and he dove up again, wanting to see what it was, if it could answer his questions.

It was a man. A human man. He'd never seen one up close before. Its flesh was a sort of orangey brown, no, only the hands and face, its chest was creamy white. It seemed still and Sherlock wondered if it was sleeping- no - it wasn't breathing. He examined its neck. No gills or blow hole there. He felt its stomach which was seemed to be made of a completely different skin to the rest of its body- maybe it was moulting? He reached under the shed skin and felt the fresh one. No. No way of breathing under water there. Oh really. If you can't breathe under water why even bother to go out onto it in the first place? Was the entire planet populated by imbeciles? Well. If it died he could always dissect it. He'd love to know why he had two sets of arms, one with hands and one with, well, the weirdest tail fins he'd ever seen... He looked more closely at this mysterious man, seeing markings and scars; veins and muscle tones; the way his hair floated in the water to make a golden halo around his face and oh nymphs if he let him die then all that would be gone for good. Thinking fast (which was ridiculously easy for the worlds only consulting marine detective) he grabbed the human by his shoulders and breathed into his mouth. Oxygen was all he needed, and Sherlock was able to produce that without the need for a free mouth.

It was quite pleasant really. The man's lips were quite soft and warm despite the cold water. Kicking his tail, he propelled the man to the surface. For a moment, he'd opened his eyes, and Sherlock saw that they were a bright blue. He hated blue but these were more than that. They were flecked with darker shades and highlighted in others. Most mermen had uniformly black eyes, an evolutionary advantage for when it came to living under water (his family tended to have grey eyes, but they were the exception, not the rule) So to see such life and spirit in a pair... For the first time in his life since dissecting the family catfish age eight, Sherlock had seen something that could define beauty. 

Once they'd broken the surface the man spluttered and gasped for air before loosing consciousness once more. Careful to keep his own waist below water (so as not to suffocate himself), Sherlock cupped the man’s chin in one hand, holding his head against his own shoulder whilst using the other to secure him against his body. In this position he was able to drag the man to the shore. Where had the rest of his lot gone? Honestly, why would you leave your captain (the man was clearly in a position of authority) alone like that? Why had no one dived in to save him? If he hadn't have been there - this man would have died! There was something in that, thought Sherlock, he was responsible for this man’s survival. That was a nice thought. No. More than nice, the feeling swam within him and made his cold blood feel... Warm, somehow. He took a hand and with the waves lapping against his stomach, stroked the man’s damp hair which was already staring to dry in the heat of the day. That was something new too. The feeling of warmth so different from just travelling from one icy cold depth to a slightly less icy cold depth. This was actual warmth. It was a new sensation, one no drug had ever been able to give him. This was nice too, just stroking the sleeping man's hair. Without realising he was doing it, he began to gently sing an old lullaby he could vaguely remember being sung to as a child.

Groaning slightly, John woke up to find himself lying in the surf. He'd had the strangest dream. He'd dreamt that he had fallen off of a waterfall and instead of hitting the rocks below he'd been caught by a mysterious man in a deer stalker of all things. Strange, it had felt so real. His muscles hurt though, especially his shoulder, although that was normal. He was getting too old for this.

That's when he'd noticed the music. Beautiful and otherworldly. He couldn't make out the lyrics, or if there were any at all. But there was melody and rhythm and oh my goodness it was amazing, fantastic, brilliant even! He finally opened his eyes to try and make out where it was coming from. But all he could see was a pair of grey eyes, piercing and curiously intense. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything, but before he could the eyes had disappeared from his sight. Bugger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not confident in my continuity on this one, so please bare with me.  
> Huchen is an actual type of fish and whilst more commonly found in places like Moroco and only in fresh water, I just couldn't resist the pun! So now you all know, Sherlock's two closest "friends" are a crab and a fish. It's like I've based it on a kids movie or something! 
> 
> Thanks to ainsleyharriotts for reading it over for me. You are the Donna to my Doctor! If Donna were always playing Assassins Creed.


	3. A Study in Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has been acting quite out of character of late, so loyal Mrs Hutchen calls in the troops. Well, troop. Well, soldier/Police Officer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being terrible at updating! I've been filling out application forms and forming portfolios and lots of other important yet boring stuff. Rest assured that Chapter 4 (or is that 3?) Is in the works =)
> 
> Oh, and Constable Pollock can be found in "The Stockbrokers Clerk" as well as in most Alaskan Fisheries.

Why had he done that. His one chance to find out all about them, to interrogate them for answers, to finally know what it all meant, the marks on the metal, the shade of the black, the stain on the tie; and what had he done? Bolted the first chance he'd had. He didn't know why, but there was something about that Navy Doctor (he'd worked out based in what he knew about mermen in the army and had been able to extrapolate an answer) that made him want to sit by his side all day- and that thought terrified him. Berating himself, he sulked back to his cave and flung himself onto the clam.

Mrs Hutchen was concerned. She'd known Sherlock had always been a little temperamental, she remembered the time when Mycroft had banned him from helping in a triple-locked-door homicide and he didn't eat for a month in protest (it had turned out it was the bodies of three enemy spies and Mycroft himself had ordered them murdered), but this was different. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was love sick. But Sherlock wasn't capable of love, not in that way, was he?

"Cup of Krill dear?" She offered. No response. Not even a snide remark like

"Mrs Hutchen, despite what you may think krill is not, in fact, the cure to everything and if I were you I'd be more concerned about the fact that Mr Alfonsino, the kelp farmer you've been seeing romantically, has a wife in the Atlantic he's been sending money to." Nothing. She phoned Lobstrade.

"Scotland Loch, DI Lobstrade speaking."

  
"Oh hello Gregory, how are you? Is your wife well?"

"Mrs Hutchen, hello, she's good thank you." He thought better of telling her that Sherlock was right and she was seeing their kids’ music teacher, and what kind of name was Sebastian anyway? "How's the worlds only consulting marine detective? You really shouldn't be calling me at work, mind you."

"I'm sorry dear but I didn't know who else to call. I can't exactly call his brother and you're the closest thing he's got to a friend."

"Wow wow wow, something's happened to Sherlock? Is it Mycroft? Is he ok?"

"No, it's not Mycroft" there was a knowing, almost mocking tone to her voice despite the seriousness of the matter. "It's Sherlock, inspector, I think he's in love."

"I'll be there in ten."

 

"So," he started conversationally, "who's the unlucky mermaid... man…then?"

  
"I don't know dear. He's not saying anything at all."

"You mean apart from all his snark"

"No, nothing at all. "

"Poseidon... Have you persuaded him to eat something at least?"

"That's just it, he's over eating. He had three kelp burgers for breakfast." Things were worse than he'd expected. Sulky Sherlock he could deal with, but this? It was so unlike Sherlock, it was practically normal. "Has he ever had any kind of girlfriend, boyfriend, a relationship, before?"

"I don't know dear."

"How can we not know?"

"He's Sherlock. How are any of us supposed to know what goes on in that head of his?" Lobstrade thought about this a moment before stealing himself

"I'll go check on him myself." He concluded that more data was always useful.

 

Sherlock was still curled up on his clam when he came. "If you want my help on a case Lobstrade then I'm afraid I'm busy."

"Busy doing what? Got a mystery of your own on the go?" Sherlock didn't answer. Greg gave a cough and scuttled awkwardly over, placing a claw onto sherlock's tail. "Look, erm, Sherlock, I know it hurts now but hey, give it a few weeks and you'll forget all about it."

"Oh what do you know about it Lobstrade. You're just a crustacean with a cheating wife and a daughter who is trying to tell you she's been laying eggs. No doubt that Constable Pollock is responsible." Lobstrade rolled his eyes and clacked his pincers in frustration, the same way he'd react if his daughter had told him about the eggs. None of this was news, it was just better to hear it from the seahorses mouth, as it were.

"Don't make me pull another drugs bust, Sherlock, neither of us want to go through that again." The merman shifted in seat, no. He didn't want Anglerson sniffing around his cave again. "So tell me what the Depths is going on here? What can't I, the mature adult here, possibly not understand, Teenlock?"

Teenlock. Sherlock hated that nickname. It was ridiculous. For one, adding "lock" to things didn't make them adjectives, and another, he wasn't acting like a teenager. Indeed, he was acting far more maturely then his teenage self would have. Point in case- no dead catfish or pink hair. He looked Lobstrade in the eye. He wasn't going to back down. If sherlock had ever known a father, he'd have recognised the look in his eyes, but as it was, he only knew that if he didn't tell Lobstrade he wouldn't be allowed to forget it.

"All I want is to go to the surface! I want to feel the sand again and find out why the sun is hot, why waves move and why I can't stop thinking about that man and why he had fingers on his tail fins; why he was in the water at all and what would happen if I kissed him again. I want to be with him but I can't be with him because he breathes the wrong type of air. What a boring reason to be separated from someone, breathing!" He twisted on the clam and put his back to Greg. The DI just stared at him. He began to be thankful that his daughter was only becoming a teen-mum, she could have become a consulting detective, and he didn't think he could deal with two of those in the family...

Outside the cave, Moran chuckled. "This is it Sebastian, this is our way in. The boss is going to love this."

  
"Oh I know Moran, I know." He grinned, which on an eel looked more like a grimace. And whilst one does not like to judge all electric eels by the acts of a few; the reader should be informed that that to celebrate this discovery, the eels in question had electrocuted a school of holidaying clown fish.


	4. The Solitary Swimmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moricarpy has plans for the two Holmes clan, and sends his two favourite crimineels to fetch Sherlock and get the ball rolling!

"Oh this is perfect! The little consulting mermaid wants to be human. Boys you have really out done yourselves." cried the sea witch hugging the eels. This was it, the moment he'd been waiting for, the chink in the Holmes' armour. He'd always known Sherlock would be the key to Mycroft's downfall, but he'd never imagined it would be so much fun!

"Where is he now I wonder" he asked throwing powder into the cauldron to bring up an image of Sherlock, very much like how a human might call up CCTV footage, only magical. And without the use of cameras. And underwater. "Oh he's going for a solitary swim, oh this is going to be so easy!" He rested his head on his hands and watched the image eagerly, as though it were the new episode of a particularly popular tv show which had been off air for EIGHTEEN FUCKING MONTHS LIKE SERIOUSLY WHAT KIND OF SHOW EVEN FUCKING DOES THAT? IS MOFFTISSON TRYING TO KILL ME OR SOMETHING? WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO um... Sorry... you get the picture I'm sure. Moricarpy is a plotting something dreadful. Something to do with Sherlock and Mycroft. Two of the only beings in the ocean to have non fish names. Heaven knows why.

Sherlock had finally given up moaping around the cave and had decided to go for a swim to 'get some fresh water past his gills'. This statement was not technically true, as he was a) still moaping and b) been slapped out of the cave by Mrs Huchen who had decided that the abandoned and rotting experiments meant that the cave needed fumigating.

There had to be a way he could get up there. Damn his gills, there had to be a way he could breath up there. Magic was out of the question. After the "incident" with the kings daughter (a lust affair with a prince had led her to cut her tail in two and eventually led to her becoming sea foam) mermaid to human transformations had been banned, and with Mycroft in charge of magical affairs, there was no way he'd be able to get as far as the surface without being thrown in jail. There was no way he was going through that experience again. The other inmates had not been nearly as interesting as he'd hoped. I mean, what was the point in deducing that someone had had eight lovers before their current wife when it was literally written all over their body? No, he'd have to find another way. Another way that didn't involve slicing his fin in two. Think Holmes think!

That's when Moran and Sebastian approached him. Sherlock had known about the eels. He'd even known they were following him, but he'd just assumed it was the usual spying.

"What is it?" He asked tersely "If you're looking for my help in one of your dull crimes than go and get one of your lackies on it. Don't bother me with your problems. I don't care" he went to turn around but Sebastian had blocked him, the two eels encircling him using their long thin bodies.

"We don't want anything from you, Holmes"

"There's nothing you could give us that we couldn't get ourselves"

"We're here on behalf of the boss."

The Boss? Sherlock had always assumed that the two master crimineels were working for someone. "He's got a gift he wants to offer you."

"One he's sure you're going to love" Sherlock considered the matter. Yes, it would be horrendously stupid to swim into the lair of an unknown criminal mastermind, but equally how could he resist the temptation to meet such a person?

"Lead the way gentlemen" Grinned Sherlock, the prospect of a potentially dangerous psychopath to deal with doing wonders to improve his mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short this one I know, but I've finished the next chapter as well, so Allonsy!


	5. The Navel Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock enters Moricarpy's lair and make a deal with the Seawitch. Meanwhile John Watson lies in bed, stroking Mike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to get this up! I really am terrible at updating!  
> Couldn't find a Beta for this one so any mistakes are ones I am solely to blame for.

The eels had taken him to an underground cavern. The walls had been lavishly decorated with etchings and paintings, an eerie green light (magical no doubt) illuminating the way. The average person would have taken one look at the murderous eels along with the disturbing depictions of dying creatures and made a swim for it, but Sherlock Holmes was not a normal person. Indeed, the creepier the lair became the keener he became to meet its owner.

"Sherlock! Hello! What a pleasure to meet you at long last" cried his host, extending an arm to grasp Sherlock's hand in greeting whilst his tentacles wrapped around his waist to pull him further into the lounge, briefly brushing across his arse.

"The pleasure is all mine, Moricarpy." Grinned the merman, choosing to sit in the clam not offered to him. A twitch of irritation crossed Moricarpy's perfectly composed face, but it was quickly replaced by his usual charming smile.

"What can I do you for Sherly?"

"It's Sherlock"

"Of course it is, Sherly." That old game. Sherlock had won the "sitting-in-your-spot" challenge and now Moricarpy was going for the award for belittling nicknames. Oh well. It could be worse. Could be Teenlock.

"I hear you have something of a gift for me, Jimmy."

Moricarpy cackled with glee "Oh you found out my full name oh well done. I guess it was the statue, or the signatures on the etchings? Did you like them by the way, all my own work."

"Oh yes, I particularly enjoyed the one of Karl Powers."

"Ahh, my earliest masterpiece! I see you're quite the fanboy."

"Unintentionally so. I never knew they were all by the same artist."

"My blushes" Jim grinned, "but we're not here to talks about your love of my work, we're here to talk about a certain Captain Watson"

So, thought Sherlock, that was the human's name, he wondered how Moricarpy had known but the thought was pushed to the back of his mind when an image of the man (who was now known to be Watson) appeared hovering in front of him. He was asleep, by the look of him.

*

John had been laid up in bed for two days now. Despite feeling perfectly fine to carry on his household duties, Lady Molly had been horrified to hear of what had happened against the pirates and was convinced that being found half conscious, on a beach five hours later was reason enough to ignore his pleas to return to work and had him declared bedridden. For crying out loud the bruises on his body from where he'd hit the water weren't even that noticeable!

He hated this feeling of uselessness. He wanted to be up and active, craved that adrenaline rush the high seas gave him. He knew her ladyship only had his best interests at heart, but this really wasn't helping.

Murray (who had found him) did come to visit him on occasion, but really his only companion was his trusty bulldog, Mike. "What do you recon mate, think she'll let me get back out there soon?" Mike licked his hand lovingly and rested his head on John's leg "I know, I know, but the limps not that bad, and my shoulder's not hurting that much more than normal." The hound looked up at him with big doleful eyes "Yes but the important thing is that I didn't die! Mind you, it was a rather lucky escape... I'm not even sure how I got to that beach" he began stroking the spot between Mike's ears thoughtfully "there were these eyes, grey like clouds just before a storm" Mike perked his head up and gave him a quizzical look that said

"Really John? Dodgy Similes? Are we 13 again?" John ignored the pup and continued

"I'd never seen eyes like them, and there was music... beautiful music... how did it go again?" He tried humming a tune experimentally, but couldn't do it justice. He gave a yawn "He was beautiful, Mike, quite beautiful." and he turned over on his pillow and fell into a deep slumber; Mike curled up in a ball by his side.

*

"What's that by his side? That hairy trout?"

"It's a bulldog, a baby one at that."

"I see we're not the only beings out there to require the presence of those intellectually beneath us." Said Sherlock, glancing at Sebastian and Moran with a smirk. The eels flexed their tails menacingly.

"Hush now Sherlock, there’s no need to be rude. You don't want me to retract my offer now, do you? How’s that old fish and that useless crustacean of yours doing anyway?"

"You haven't actually made me any sort of offer yet." Rebutted Sherlock, ignoring the comment about Mrs Huchen and Lobstrade; they might be idiots but they were his idiots.

"Oh come now, I thought it would have been obvious by now! No? I am disappointed in you Sherly. But oh well. Sometimes being blunt is the best way forward." Moricarpy grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, placing them on the table before them. "Being the kind soul that I am, I have always done my best to help those in need. I've been granted a few natural gifts and have, over the years, done my best to use them to provide a service to those in need."

"Like Karl Powers. I see how murdering him helped a hell of a lot."

"Karl couldn't pay the price. I don't like it people can’t stick to their end of the bargain."

"Apparently not."

"But what I have to offer, Sherly, oh it is so good. Your chance, to find out what the people know. To ask all those questions and deduce your answers. That's right Sherlock, this is your once in a life time opportunity" he cried throwing his arms wide like a game show host "just one signature on this here document and you'll be able to change those fins for legs and those gills for nice smooth pecs!"

 

Sherlock was momentarily speechless, though, naturally, not for very long. "You wouldn't be able to. That kind of transformation spell has so many sorcery locks on it you'd never be able to pull it off in time before the guards showed up to take us off to have our heads removed."

"Oh Sherly please. You must stop underestimating me- it'll be your downfall." Sherlock narrowed his eyes

"You could do it? Actually do it? What's the catch? Why me? Oh! It's not me, is it. It's Mycroft. You think by putting me in danger you'll get him to agree to whatever you ask for just to keep me safe. Well, I assure you Mr Moricarpy, there is no bond left between my brother and I other than that of blood. I take no care in his day to day life and he none in mine."

  
"Well we both know that's not strictly true." Sherlock rolled his eyes "But if you're so confident about it, then sign away! Think about it." He said rising up to twirl around sherlock "You'll be able to see him again. Touch him again. All those silly naughty fantasises you've got up there in your little noggin" he said stroking Sherlock's face "you can make them all come true" his voice was hypnotic "what does it matter what becomes of your brother, when you'll have him! I'd go for that hunk over your obese cod of a brother any day." He directed Sherlock's gaze back to the image hovering above the cauldron. He could see John gently breathing in and out, in and out on the bed. It was mesmerising. He licked his lips

"Pass me the contract then."

 

Moricarpy giggled with glee "Oh good boy! Hoes before bros it is." He pushed the document towards him, the page glowing gold as Sherlock picked it up "Nothing too serious. Just the usual for these sort of things. Set time period, wares off at midnight, get the boy to kiss you before then and you'll keep the legs and get your voice back yada-yada-yada. It's all there." Sherlock gave it a quick read. As he would be gaining legs magic dictated that he loose something as well- in this case his voice. Which could be worse he supposed. He often went days without speaking as it was! He'd get 5 days in which to persuade his "one-true-love", how ghastly a phrase, to kiss him. If Sherlock initiated the kiss then that would not work- he had to have his love returned to him. It all felt a bit more like lust then love but that's the way these things always went. If he failed to receive his kiss before midnight on the 5th day, then the spell would break and he would get his fins back. Sherlock thought about it. This could have the possibility to cause scandal for Mycroft - which would serve him right, really, after all he'd put Sherlock through- but he wouldn't actually be physically harmed in anyway... If Sherlock kept the legs he could be with Watson for ever, and if he did not, then he would get his fins and voice back and be able to return to his life as it was before. He dipped the quill in ink and signed on the dotted line.

 

As soon as he did, he felt a great pain shoot through him. His insides convulsed as his gills sealed themselves before his lungs had fully adapted he was drowning, drowning in two separate ways his heart pumping harder and harder to get the last remains of oxygenated blood to his rapidly changing limbs but his circulatory system was being ripped apart and reformed at the same time turning him from cold blooded to warm blooded whilst his throat twisted and knotted around itself as his voice was forcibly ripped from his chords by an invisible claw and oh fuck it hurt it hurt it hurt it hur-

The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was Moricarpy's manic laugh followed by the sharp snap of pincers.


	6. Greg to the Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg Lobstrade isn't just a pretty Shell you know.

What. An. Idiot. Thought Lobstrade; following those two known crimineels into a dark cave in the middle of no where, what was he expecting to happen? That they’d have some sort of Mad Hatter’s Krill Party and live happily ever after! No; reasoned the DI, Sherlock would have known exactly what he was getting into. The fool probably did it just because he was bored! If Mrs Huchen hadn’t of called him when she did, goodness knows what would have happened.

As it was things were not looking too good. After following the clues from Sherlock’s cave (he was a highly respected Detective Inspector, after all, despite what Sherlock might say) he’d entered unseen by the two eels who were distracted by the scene before them. Sherlock was writhing on the floor in pain as a Sea Witch cackled over him, a mysterious green light emitting from Sherlock’s gaping mouth and circling round the villain’s body. Lobstrade attacked instinctively, scuttling forward and clamping a claw down onto one of Moricarpy’s tentacles. He gave out a scream of pain as he thrashed around, looking for the source but Lobstrade held on tight reaching for a second limb to cut into. Unable to help their leader without harming him, Sebastian and Moran blocked off the exits. Finally regaining some sense of control, Moricarpy sent a bolt of magic directly at Greg’s face and he let go. Sebastian held him still whilst Moran held his tail fin to his face, little sparks of electricity scorching his cheek.

“So you’ve come to collect your boy from his play date, I see.” Hissed Moricarpy

“Who are you and what have you done to Sherlock” barked back the crab flinching away from Moran’s tale as it caressed his face.

“Oh you stupid little crustacean, haven’t you guessed already? Your son got it straight away. Clearly genius doesn’t run in the family.”

“Don’t play games with me you little bottom feeder and tell me what you did to Sherlock!”

“I didn’t do anything to him. Well. Not anything he didn’t want done” he smirked, glancing down at Sherlock’s now lifeless body as it lay on the floor. Lobstrade looked too, the merman now had… legs… not like his which were spindly but full proper fleshy… Poseidon the boy had only gone and turned himself human! Why under the sea would he have done that! He needed to get him to do something, and quickly.

“Just tell me how to save him!” cried Lobstrade “Or I swear to Neptune I will skin you alive and use your blood as shark bait.”

“Tsk Tsk.” He smiled “Temper temper Detective Inspector. There’s nothing you can do now! It’s all magically binding. He signed the contract. He wanted this. No, he needed this, so any consequences are going to be his fault. If I were you I’d stop your futile death threats and get him to the surface. The last of his fish cells will have disappeared by now, and going by the look of him, he’s only got a few minutes left to live.” He indicate for his henchmen to let Lobstrade go “If I were you, I’d get him to the surface” said Moricarpy in a stage whisper, a look of malice glee spreading across his face.

 

Lobstrade swam over to Sherlock. He wasn’t moving but there was still life in him yet “Anglerson, Donofin, get in here now!” he yelled. He’d had his two right claw fish stationed outside in an attempt to prevent Sebastian and Moran from escaping, but they would now have to help him drag Sherlock to the surface. The two came sprinting in gazing at the scene around them “What the” started Anglerson before Lestrade cut in “You two, take Sherlock to the surface. Get him to a beach – yes a beach Sally – give him plenty of air.”

“But sir,” started Sally glancing around at the manically grinning Sea Witch and his two companions

“Just go already!”

“Yes Sir.” The two grabbed Sherlock by the arms and high tailed it out of there

“Bye Bye!” grinned Jim waving them off as though Sherlock really had been here on a play date “Well Lobstrade. I think it’s time for you to go.”

“That’s it? You’re just, done with me? You’re not even going to tell me who you are? Or give me a clue at least?”

“Oh inspector” he purred handing him a copy of the contract as the two electric eels herded him towards the exit “The name is James Moricarpy and the address he’ll be needing is Room 221, Castle Le Eric. Good day.” He winked as Lobstrade was shoved out the entrance.

*

Lobstrade had no clue what he was meant to do. His head was still reeling, should he go and see how Sherlock was, or go and fetch Mrs Huchen? What was he meant to actually do about Sherlock? The Merman was human now and that meant air and legs and whole new reproductive system to sit him down and talk about… Perhaps it was better to go and talk to Mrs Huchen first? Anglerson and Donofin could deal with an unconscious Sherlock for a while.

No, wait, the contract! Lobstrade laid it out on a nearby rock and gave it a quick read. It was in the usual flowery prose these magically binding contracts came in- he’d seen a few in his day, especially before the magic ban – when he was just a crustacean constable trying to make his way in a mermen’s world. Oh how times change. Now he was a Crustacean Detective Inspector about to make his way into the human world. Worse than that, even, it seemed he was going to have to play matchmaker with some poor unsuspecting human male. Well, at least Sherlock wouldn’t be able to complain or insult him anymore, though he’d probably find a way. Actually, he still wasn’t sure a mute Sherlock was a good Sherlock.

But yes, plan of action. Tell Mrs Huchen what’s going on, try not to let on to Mycroft what might be going on (he’d know already, no doubt, but it would probably be best if all parties involved could feign ignorance – especially given The Ariel Incident)  
So first, speak to Mrs Huchen and then… yes, The Bird. She’d know what to do...


	7. The Silent Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's comrades consult with the infamous Irene Aqua about how best to seduce his Love. With her help, he learns to walk and soon finds himself donning his battle armour to seek out the man who has captured his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a while. A long while. I'm not going to make excuses but I always knew I'd come back to this someday.... 
> 
> Some small references to sex in this chapter, if that kind of thing alarms you. Still a T though. Just maybe an Older Teen. 
> 
> No Beta as I'm just trying to knock these out at the moment so I can get back to fanart ^^;

Mrs Huchen had been waiting for him when he returned. “Oh what troubles he got himself into now, Inspector?” asked the fish, flapping her fins.

 

“He’s been kidnaped, Mrs Huchen.”

 

“Again?” she replied brightly, “Oh I wouldn’t worry Inspector, he does that. I’m sure he’ll be back as soon as possible.”

 

“No Mrs Huchen, it’s worse than that, it was Moricarpy. The Sea Witch. He, he’s struck some sort of deal with him. He’s given him legs and taken away his voice – all so as he can seduce some human boy he’s convinced himself he’s in love with!”

 

“Oh we all do silly things when in love, don’t we?” She smiled, if fish could smile that was – it was often hard to tell. “Let me know if he needs any help. I was once the host of the Reef in my day. I could teach that boy a thing or two you know.”

 

Lobstrade made a quick exit before he was forced into being shown thing one or thing two.

 

*

His next port of call was to find the Bird. Irene Aqua (born Lara Plover) was well known to all marine life. She could whip the chip out of a sailor’s mouth with the flash of a beak and make a Hammer Head beg for mercy using only a feather. Her reputation was well known, but to most she was simply known as ‘The Bird”.

 

Catching a lift on a passing Dolphin, it didn’t take long for Lobstrade to reach one of the mermaids at HQ who had told Aqua what she liked. The message was put out to meet ASAP on the beach nearest Castle Le Eric, where he knew Donofin would take him. She was a smart girl that one, she was due to go far in the Police Force that one. She’d get there faster if she’d ditch Anglerson.

 

*

 

Irene Aqua was already waiting for him when he finally arrived. Sherlock had already come to and was trying to argue with both Aqua and Donofin, who both found it quite amusing that he couldn’t make a sound.

 

“Oh Inspector” cooed Irene “I know I usually like to leave you boys waiting but when Aquata contacted me regarding this little situation, oh I had to fly here as fast as I could.”

 

“So you know the details of the what’s happened then?” Greg didn’t really feel like explaining it all over again.

 

“Yes, Sally here explained everything to me. You know how much I love to talk to detectives, inspector.”

 

Greg blushed profusely. If Crabs could blush that is. Their bone structure being on the outside made it almost impossible to tell unless you were intimately acquainted with their species, and Irene was certainly that. Not that she was all that familiar with Lobstrade’s particular tastes, but, she theorised, she could change that. She needed more DIs on her list…  Sherlock was tugging on her feathers now though. Trying to get her attention. Irene snapped her beak at him, cutting his finger.

 

“Careful now boy, don’t go getting ideas, we can’t play those kind of games when you’ve got a man of your own to woo”

 

Sherlock flung his hands into the air and fell back onto the sand in a huff. He really needed to find new ways of communicating, it had only been a few hours and already he was missing his baritone. Maybe some sort of costume might work? He could probably fashion something interesting out of the bulky piece of sail cloth Donofin has wrapped him in claiming that she “Didn’t want to look at him with all of him hanging out like that”. Sherlock personally didn’t see what the issue was. He was quite excited to explore what his new appendages were for exactly.

 

“How exactly is he going to woo this Human then, Ms Aqua? Because so far I wouldn’t say you’re being particularly helpful. I called you here because I knew you’d be the only being who could help us with such things. You know the human world and you know our world. Surely you’ve picked up a thing or two on romance.” Irene gave him an inquisitive stare.

 

“Inspector I never knew you thought so highly of me, or cared so much about the boy” Sherlock raised a hand to complain about being called a boy but everyone ignored it.

 

Greg heaved a sigh. “Poseidon help us, I need you Irene. Please.”

 

“I don’t see why our rituals are any different to Human ones, sir” chimed in Donnofin. “I mean, have you ever met someone who doesn’t like to dance and to be given gifts? Kissing is universal as well, we already know that is what’s going to break the curse. As much as it pains me to admit it, but the weirdo is actually quite attractive, if you like that kind of thing” she hastily added.

 

Irene smiled at the mermaid, “Sally you are most correct” she sauntered towards her “but in the human world it’s so much more complicated” she slowly began to fly around the girl, brushing her gently with her feathers “areas where you enjoy being touched they don’t, and there’s so much more skin to caress as well. There isn’t a set dance you participate in, it’s all individual and yet ridged. So many ways of displaying interest” she perched on Sally’s shoulder now “it’s hard to know where to start.”

 

Sally was blushing bright crimson now form head to tail. Lobstrade just put his claw over his head in a “why is it always me” gesture. Sherlock was looking at the scene with absolute disgust on his face, as though he had just been forced to digest the rotten leftovers of fish found in a dead shark’s stomach.

 

“So, what do we need to do?”

 

“Well, if he’s going to woo that Doctor of his, he’s going to need some battle armour, but I think we should learn to walk before we run, as the humans say.”

 

*

 

Walking was surprisingly difficult, thought Sherlock. Lobstrade and Irene seemed to have it down to an art, and if Lobstrade could do it, surely he could as well? If only he could figure out how to balance on these things. As it was, he kept taking one step and falling flat on his back!

 

“Come on Holmes” chanted Sally from the safety of the Ocean “I thought there was nothing you couldn’t do ten times better than Greg, or was that just more lies?” Sherlock threw her a nasty glare but wasn’t able to tell her about her early failings at swimming in a straight line as a little girl and the fact that, after only twenty minutes, he had been able to stand up at all was better than she could ever hope to achieve in his situation. However, he had given up his right to say any of this precisely because he wanted to be able to walk. So instead he pulled a rude gesture at her. She was having far too much fun watching him, he’d have to get his own back one day for sure.

 

It took another twenty minutes for Sherlock to be able to stand upright for any decent amount of time and another twenty for him to be able to walk. Once he’d got the hang of walking though, he was running around the bay, his sail cloth flapping in the wind like large white wings.

 

“Excellent. Well, I think its time we got some battle armour on you.” Smiled the Bird “The love of your life is going to be walking along this beach any moment now, if my sources are accurate.” Sherlock couldn’t help but beam broadly. The meet mention of Watson and his heart was leaping about in his chest and his stomach did flip flops! Soon. He was going to see Watson again soon. He felt a pleasant twitching from one of his new appendages.

 

*

 

He’d been finally allowed out of his room and, deciding that Mike could do with the exercise as well, he’d taken him for a jog along the beach outside the castle. He did it everyday in an attempt to stay fit for his job. Before working for the Hoopers, he couldn’t imagine being able to do anything but lie around in his old flat and do nothing but feel miserable for himself. Having a job though, fighting pirates, sailing on the sea, feeling useful again, it meant the world to him – and he wasn’t going to give that up for anything.

 

Mike was charging ahead, sniffing anything new he found and running back to show it to John. The pup’s excitement always cheered him up. When he’d first been given Mike by Lady Hooper, he didn’t know what to think. He was a grown man, what would he want with some stupid little pudgy dog? Yet Lady Mary Hooper (known to those intimately acquainted with her as simply ‘Molly’), despite her appearances, was a lot more than a cutesy, dithering, cat obsessed noble. Yes, she wore frills and large pink dresses with floral patterns all over it complimented with gaudy cat inspired jewellery; but that in no way demeaned her intelligence. Were she not born to marry a rich noble and allow her family estates to not fall into ruin, she’d have made a fine Doctor herself. She’d gifted him the pup telling him he’d help him deal with his war memories. Someone to assure him when he awoke that he wasn’t there anymore. The cannon fire but a memory, the storms and the shouts all in his head. As much as he loved Mike and was grateful for everything he’d done, but waking up to a bulldog slobbering all over you wasn’t quite the same as waking up with a warm body holding you close. John’s mind drifted back those grey eyes and he began absentmindedly humming that mystical tune once more.

 

Mike had wondered out of view, though John could still hear his yapping, which was getting more frantic and excited. He’d probably found another dead seagull or something. Heaving a sigh, he picked up his speed to chase after him. “What are you doing now Mike?” he called out as he looked around the rocks. But it was not a dead seagull or a piece of interestingly shaped wood, it was a beautiful man with grey eyes the colour of clouds before a storm. John’s eyes flittered around the man face, trying to see if he was the stranger who had haunted his most pleasant of dreams. He then noticed that the man was as naked as the day he was born and John began to wonder if this was, indeed, a dream. Well, he thought, if it was a dream he certainly didn’t want to wake from it. Especially now. 

 

 


End file.
